Friday, March 17, 2017

Poverty in New Orleans

Poverty in New
Orleans

By

Phil LaMancusa

We gauge
conditions of being financially uncomfortable by something called a poverty
rate. The poverty rate is defined as the percentage of the population living
below poverty level. Poverty level is defined as that level when a person or
family’s income is so low that stress in being able to provide basic
necessities (food, clothing, shelter) is felt; at times, acutely. As of 2015,
13.5 percent of Americans (43,100,000) live below poverty level—more children
than women, more women than men. The statistics are staggering: blacks, 24.1 percent; Latinos, 24.1
percent; Asians, 11.9 percent; whites, 9.1 percent; and 33.6 percent of these
numbers are children—living all around
you. Academics Kathryn J. Edin and H. Luke Shaefer, authors of the book
“$2.00 a Day: Living on Almost Nothing in America” report that there are nearly
1.5 million American households with practically no cash income at all. New Orleans fits quite comfortably in these parameters.

I was raised in the projects in the
1940s and 50s by a single parent relying on public welfare, healthcare, and
education; five kids, the whole nine yards. The projects’ tenants were the
elite of the neighborhood: all around us
families were poorer. And surrounding us all were people not so poor. The economic checkerboard
of neighborhoods was a constant reminder of who the “haves” were and who the “have-nots”
weren’t, and if we were the “have-nots,” our neighbors were the “have-nothings.” We’re talking the
literal definition of the word ‘poverty’; and like it or not, every society
maintains a percentage of their population in poverty. Somebody’s got to perform cheap menial labor.

We were adequately
schooled; any better education and we might have aspired to greater heights. Our
heroes were sports and cinema stars, musicians, and criminals, who had made a
name for themselves and whose lifestyles we could emulate but never attain. In
our later teens, we were pushed from school to enter society. Our choices were:
military (or prison) uniforms, or, to follow in our parents’ footsteps and
enter the world of the “working stiffs,” whose sweat greases the wheels of this
great society. These were our rites of passage into adulthood and the only
options when and where I was growing up. Being poor meant staying poor and
raising your children to perpetuate this system of poverty—the norm. The
advantage my family had was that we were white.

When I came
back to New Orleans in the late 90s, I found that little had changed from the
60s and 70s; there were still, at the close of the 20th century, moral,
physical, and economic depression in the
city. The Big Easy. Even today, 15 minutes from the mayor’s office, citizens
are living in abject poverty. Let’s define that condition as I see it.

We’ll disregard, for the moment,
the homeless, those in shelters, squatters, and tenants in our “new” projects;
although these segments do round out the picture. State subsidized nursing
homes, where tenants receive $38 a month to live on while taking away all of
their other monies, is another form of poverty, but not what I’m speaking of
here. To define poverty, we’ll begin by pointing out what it is not. Being poor isn’t necessarily living in poverty. Having
secure employment and worrying about your financial prospects, your kid’s school
choices, your mortgage, credit card debt, the note on your car, seasonal
clothing; or choosing a dentist, cleaning woman, or hairdresser are very real concerns. However, while
those things might keep you broke, it is NOT poverty. Over 20 % of New Orleans
families of four living on a cash income of $10,000 a year or less is poverty (Pew Research).

Anxiety about whether you’ll be evicted for
non-payment of rent because you chose to put food on the table; fear of having
your utilities cut off; whether the person who brings home the household’s
money can/will have and keep a job; struggling, hustling, and scraping just to get by IS poverty. Having to
take advantage of every free service (social security insurance, food stamps,
food banks, emergency rooms, supplemental housing assistance) and then some,
you live in survival mode.

To be clear, as a mother, not being able to
afford the adequate healthcare for your children that you ‘have access to’, not being able to plan a healthy parenthood, or
even worse, the fear of putting the father’s name on your baby’s birth
certificate is real poverty, not only financially but emotionally and
psychologically. As a father, even if you yourself live in poverty, when your name appears on a
birth certificate, you’re held liable for support or, as a consequence of non-payment,
can have your driver’s license revoked, effectively compromising everyone’s
earnings and takings; father loses mobility, mother and child lose public
assistance. That’s the Catch 22 of living in an America where the ‘have
nothings’ are treated as lepers and parasites.

Having to take jobs at minimum wage (because
you lack formal education or training) and then be able to live on that money
and support a family ($15,080 yearly); not being able to pay for fundamental
living necessities (gas, electricity, water, food) …THAT’S POVERTY. Being poor
and living in areas where the lack of necessities is the norm—areas where crime
is commonplace, addiction is not regarded as an oddity, the strong oppress the
weak, contention is encouraged, and where there is no way out … that’s poverty. 25-30% of all New Orleanians live in poverty; 44%
of children under five live in poverty. For a single parent not to live in poverty, he or she has to
take in over $46,000 a year (an hourly wage of $22.00). These numbers are
verifiable.

When I came
back, I was informed that the majority of the students that were pushed through
our educational system were graduating high school with a fifth grade reading
skill level; they are today’s parents and the dishwashers, porters, trash
collectors, maids, fast food workers, lawn tenders and minimum wage earners.
Our city (and state) leads the country in teen (unwed) pregnancy, crime,
obesity, African American incarceration/unemployment, and child hunger. Going
to school is an economic family sacrifice at best and rent increases are
routine and arbitrary. Poorer families are pushed out when “revitalizers” move
into a poor neighborhood.

Dwell on
this: I get home from work at 6:30 p.m., turn on the lights, and go to bed by
11:00 p.m.; I’m up two hours in the morning before leaving for work … and my electric
bill is around $100 a month. Add to that the water bill, car insurance and
repair, laundry, cable, food, rent, clothing, phone, health and dental
insurance, the occasional movie or night out … and if I had to do that on $290
a week before taxes, what would I do? Where would I make my cuts? Adopt
out my children? Quit eating nourishing food, abandon coffee outings, shaving,
bathing, turn in my cell phone, relinquish my pets, sell my soul, take a second
job, rob a bank, take out a loan, get credit cards and max them, curl into a
fetal position and beg God for mercy? Forget about holidays, vacations or
birthdays; where would that money
come from? I’ve been painted into a corner, trapped; me and the other poor
schmucks that are your neighbors. And what can be done about it? Poverty sucks.
And ironically, poverty fluctuates with the stock market. When the market went
into recession in 2008, the poverty rate—over the entire country—rose and kept
on rising until 2010 when it fell (slowly) back to 2007 levels.

There is a
bill in the state legislature to raise the minimum wage; opposition, naturally,
is split along party lines. State government doesn’t support it because they
would have to give their workers a
raise and --- the last governor having screwed us, leaving a huge deficit--- it
would ,mean that raising minimum wage would put Louisiana even more in the hole.
So, once again, the little guy takes it in the shorts and is kicked to the curb
and all the authors of the bill want is a mere $0.75-an-hour raise. It would
raise the minimum wage to $320 a week before taxes and
that’s still poverty in New Orleans.

We can accept
or reject poverty in America. We can give our extra money to build hospitals,
feed the starving in other countries and we look at the pictures of abandoned
and mistreated puppies and ignore our neighbor’s plight. Or, we can realize that greed
is at the root of all of our problems and do something about eliminating that,
beginning with ourselves and not accepting it in others, especially the people
that we put into public office. We can take part in our own recovery and, to
paraphrase the man, declare that: “War (and poverty) is over… if you want it.”